


Tumblr Ficlets

by lotrspnfangirl



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Animated GIFs, Drabble Collection, Ficlet, Inspired by GIFs, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Tumblr, multiple tags, pairings may be added, see each fic for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:30:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotrspnfangirl/pseuds/lotrspnfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Tumblr Ficlets I've written. Chapter titles for pairings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wings - Destiel

**Author's Note:**

> **Destiel** \-- wing!kink, handjobs

Dean felt his breath catch. 

The first time he saw Castiel’s wings, Dean had been shocked, surprised. Angel’s weren’t real; they couldn’t be real. They were bold and black as they stretched out across the warehouse, beautiful in an unearthly sort of way and it wasn’t until Cas had returned to his normal state of being that Dean realized he believed. 

The second time he saw them, Castiel was bleeding, and they were far from the magnificence they were that first night. They twitched, felt cold against his leg as Dean pressed in closer to make sure Cas was okay, and had lost most of their shine. Dean had felt his throat tighten as he let his eyes trail over the ragged wings, feathers twisted in odd directions, and Dean realized he was scared for the angel. 

They had come a long way from that fight; Cas had gotten his grace returned and Dean took him at his word that things would be better now. Fresh from his shower, he nodded when Sam offered to go out and get them food and Dean moved across the bunker to Cas’ room to check on him. 

The door to Cas’ room was left open and as Dean neared he was able to look through the crack and he paused, hand half ready to knock on the door. Castiel was in the center of the room, folding his trench coat carefully over so he wouldn’t get blood anywhere on the floor or the bed. He removed the rest of his clothing in the same manner, taking care to twist each piece in on itself and pile them together. 

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes trailing down the lean body and watched as Castiel’s body shivered against the cold of the room. Dean was about to step away, allow the angel to finish getting cleaned up and dressed, when Cas let out a soft gasp and Dean found himself through the door, afraid that he was hurt. 

He wasn’t hurt. 

Cas spun around, his eyes wide and mouth parted as he stared at Dean, confused and surprised that the hunter was there. Dean opened his mouth, ready to explain why he’d been at the angel’s door, but the words were lost on his tongue as he let his eyes trail over the thick, full-bodied wings, extending from Castiel’s back. How he hadn’t noticed it before, that first night, was beyond him. Dean slid forward, eyes never leaving the Angel’s wings but aware of every breath that Castiel took as he closed the distance between them.

Slowly, Dean reached out, fingers trailing down the wing’s spine, from the wing wrist to the tip. The feathers were soft, softer than Dean would’ve thought, and they rustled beneath his touch. 

“Dean,” Cas whispered, his voice low and strained. Dean let his eyes snap back up and he finally met the Angel’s gaze. 

“They’re beautiful, Cas,” he murmured, fingers finding their way deeper into the first layer of feathers. “You’re beautiful.” Dean felt his gut clench when he realized what he said, the truth of it surprising him and making him aware of the silence in the room, threatening to choke them both. When Castiel only returned his stare, expression guarded, Dean slowly drew back, preparing himself to bolt from the room. 

“Wait!” Cas reached up, fingers closing around Dean’s wrist and holding him in place. “Don’t… don’t stop.” Dean nodded once, the fingers around his wrist slipping away until Dean was free to move again. He let his fingers trail through the feathers, careful not to pull or push the wrong way. He felt the muscles contract beneath his touch, the wings themselves shivering and twitching every few seconds, soft sounds slipping from Castiel’s lips. 

Before he knew it, Dean was pressed up against Cas’ back, both hands running down the back of Castiel’s wings until they broke through the feathers and ran down Castiel’s heated skin. Cas hissed, his entire body stiffening at the touch, and slowly Dean pressed forward until Castiel’s entire body was pressed against his chest. 

Dean turned his head, carefully watching Castiel’s face as he let his hands move to Castiel’s chest, slowly sliding down his stomach to rest against his hips. Cas was shaking against him, the heat from his body and his wings making Dean’s body hot. Dean pressed his lips to the back of Cas’ throat, smirking against his skin when he felt and heard the Angel’s breath catch.

He kissed him softly, his hands dancing across Cas’ lower stomach until pressed a hand flat against Cas’ to pull him back while the other hand slid down to wrap around Castiel’s hardened length. Castiel moaned, the sound loud and perfect, surrounding Dean with everything he never knew he was missing. 

He buried his head against Cas’ shoulder, his lips kissing across Cas’ skin and the base of his wings as he moved his hand slowly, squeezing and twisting his wrist. Cas’ entire body was soon shaking, his weight only being held up by Dean’s arm holding him, and Dean pressed back against him, moving his hand faster. 

When Castiel came it was with a shout, his wings and body stiffening until he shivered and collapsed back into Dean’s arms. Dean kissed his back once more, walking them backwards to the bed and lowering them together. He ran his hands down Cas’ stomach and sides, caressing him softly as he let his head rest into the soft, warmth of Cas’ wings.

“Beautiful,” he whispered and knew that Cas was smiling. “Just beautiful.”


	2. Sometimes - Wincest

Usually late nights are spent scarfing down food from the diner down the street and mapping out the next hunt. Long days mean short nights, quick showers, little time to sleep, and a quick fuck here or there before they tumble into bed for the night or pack up and haul ass onto the next town. 

But sometimes… sometimes that’s not enough. Although neither one of them has anything against a hurried hand job in the shower or a blow job in a back alley after a good hunt, sometimes it’s nice to slow things down. 

When Dean pulled the Impala off of the highway way and onto a dirt road half hidden behind overgrown trees, Sam felt his cock twitch in anticipation. Dean took his time, making sure to keep his baby on the road, avoided pot holes and downed branches until he found the perfect spot. 

“Back seat, Sammy.” Dean already sounded wrecked and fire burned through Sam’s skin as he scrambled over the seat, careful not to clock Dean with foot as he went over. Dean chuckled and followed after, much more graceful as he smoothed over Sam’s body and slotted himself between opened legs. Dean was already hard, cock full and trapped against the zipper of his jeans as he pressed against Sam’s body and Sam moaned, hands coming to Dean’s hips to pull him in closer. 

Part of him wanted Dean to get this show on the road; to work him open and sink in deep, bringing them both home. But he bit back the demand on the tip of his tongue and sighed in content as Dean met his lips, soft and warm and  _perfect_ pressure. Dean kissed the very breath from Sam’s lungs, his entire body strumming to life as Dean’s hands played against each button of Sam’s shirt, twisting them open and pushing the fabric back. 

When Dean’s fingertips trailed down Sam’s chest, Sam gasped against Dean’s mouth, arching up against his brother’s body. 

“Dean!” His brother smiled in response, trailing kisses down Sam’s bared throat and chest and stomach. His hands slid further down, tugging against the button and zipper of Sam’s jeans as he circled a nipple with his tongue and then teeth. Sam slammed his eyes shut, moaning, pressing into the warmth and heat of Dean’s mouth and touch. 

Sam was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with every throb of his cock, and as Dean’s hand found purchase, sinking beneath the fabric and long fingers wrapping around Sam’s dick, he slid back up, tongue sliding against Sam’s collarbone and the hollows of his throat until he found Sam’s lips again. Then he squeezed. 

Sam wasn’t sure how long Dean teased him – worshiped him, if he were to be honest– but soon he was shaking, every inch of his body kissed or caressed, and he was  _ready._ And Dean knew, Dean always knew. 

Slowly, Dean pulled back, his clothing mixed with Sam’s in the well of the car. Dean’s tongue was as insistent in Sam’s mouth as his fingers were inside Sam’s body – pressing and pushing and opening him up for everything Dean had to give. Sam was his, only his. 

Sometimes Sam loved being fucked into a mattress at a motel, hard and fast and dirty. Sometimes he liked to manhandle Dean, hold him up and pressed him against a wall as he drove into his brother’s body. Sometimes there was nothing better than Dean’s mouth, hot and wet as it sucked Sam down or the noises that Dean made as he fell apart, Sam’s name on his lips. 

Sometimes, but there was nothing in the world Sam could compare to Dean sliding his hands up Sam’s thighs, pulling them apart and splitting Sam open as he pushed inside. Dean groaned, fingers digging into the meat of Sam’s thighs and Sam gasped, throwing his head back, his hands flying up to grip Dean’s shoulders and hold him tight. 

“Fuck, Dean,” he gasped, his body clenching around his brother’s cock, pulling him in deeper. “Come on, Dean. Move!” Dean’s hands slid from their position on Sam’s thighs, up his stomach and to his sides, gripping Sam tight and pulling him up. He rolled his hips, moving slowly in and out of Sam’s body in slow, hard thrusts. 

Their mouths crashed together, kissing softly until kissing became too hard and they stayed pressed together sharing the same air. Breathless moans and pants filled the small space of the Impala, Sam’s back slid back against the handle of the door, Dean’s leg kept slipping off the seat, launching them sideways and forcing them to readjust. 

But Sam didn’t care; all that mattered was Dean’s hands on his skin, his lips on his mouth, his hips moving in and out, hitting every spot Sam wanted and needed. Without warning, Sam came with a cry, untouched and spilling between their bodies. Dean groaned, wrapping his arms tight around Sam’s body and holding him close as he fucked harder into Sam’s body, face buried into his neck.

They collapsed together on the seat, Dean shifting them so Sam’s head wasn’t pressed awkwardly against the door, even though it meant his legs were bent and pressed against the cold leather. 

_“I love you,”_  Sam whispered, breaking through the sounds of their heavy breathing, his fingers carding back through Dean’s hair. He felt the pounding of his heart, knew that Dean loved him even if he didn’t say it often. But then sometimes…

“Love you too, Sammy,” Dean whispered back, his arms tightening around Sam’s back and holding him close. Sometimes, Dean did, and sometimes was more than enough.


	3. It was their first time... - Wincest

It was their first time. 

Not their first time kissing, or even their first time fucking, but their first time where they were able to take their time.

Sam closed the door behind them, leading Dean into his dorm room and locking the door with a loud ‘click’ behind him. Surprisingly, Dean found himself nervous as he stood at the end of the bed, waiting for Sam to come to him. Sam gave him a smile, one of those melt-your-heart-all-teeth-and-dimples smile and slowly closed the distance between them. 

“Hey,” Sam whispered, reaching forward to let his fingertips trail down Dean’s chest. Dean shivered, swallowed hard. 

“Hey yourself.” Sam captured his lips then, a soft, deep kiss that had fire running through Dean’s veins. Suddenly, it wasn’t enough. He needed Sam, needed to touch him and kiss him, take his time discovering every inch of his younger brother’s body that he’d never been able to before. 

Sam seemed to be on the same page; he reached between them, fisting Dean’s shirt and pulling it over Dean’s head before removing his own. “Bed,” Sam whispered and Dean fell back, fingers catching the hem of Sam’s jeans and pulling him down along with him. 

Sam laid over him, claiming Dean’s lips again and Dean forced himself to pull back. It wasn’t going to be like this, not this time, not when they had time. Dean reached for Sam’s hand, pressed his younger brother’s palm flat against his chest and kissed Sam again, soft and slow. When Sam pulled back to catch his breath, Dean caught his lower lip between his teeth and tugged gently, his hands moving to slide up Sam’s side. 

“Dean,” Sam breathed out against his mouth and Dean nodded. 

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”


	4. Untitled - Destiel

Dean Winchester was not one for letting go, relinquishing control, surrendering himself to another person. He had a drive, a need buried deep inside, to always be in control, to look out for everyone else around him, to excel at everything besides bringing himself happiness. He was selfless, strong and kind, and Castiel loved that about him. 

It had taken weeks to get Dean’s icy exterior to break down and get the other man to agree to be taken care of. When Castiel held him down and ravished his body, Dean melted beneath his touch, letting go of everything that was keeping him together. When it was over, the walls returned along with a guilt at who Dean could have let down in the few moments he’d allowed himself any sort of happiness and pleasure. 

It had taken even longer than that for Castiel to coax Dean’s walls back down. Longer still to convince Dean that –if only sometimes– he could think of himself first. That he was capable of being happy too, that he could be loved.

Castiel loved Dean for everything he was, but loved him even more when he was like this. 

“Cas,” Dean gasped, fingers clenching against the motel sheets, his right arm slipping out from under him and he struggled to hold himself up with his left. “Fuck!”

Cas smirked, running his hand down the back of Dean’s thigh, then back up again and slipping between his legs, long fingers running over the hardened flesh falling heavy and hot between Dean’s spread legs. Cas’ tongue pressed flat against Dean’s taint before sliding up, delving deeper into the tight muscle of Dean’s hole.

Dean moaned, the sound loud and half stiffled by the pillow, and it sent a shock straight through Castiel’s body and to his cock. Cas moved his hand slowly along with the rhythm of his tongue, fucking in and out of Dean’s body. Dean’s legs were shaking, his toes curling against the comforter they’d thrown down to the end of the bed in their haste to get on it. 

Cas knew Dean was close, fucking loved that he could get the hunter off this way, wanted Dean to be fucked out and boneless when he flipped him over and fucked him nice and slow. 

“So hot, Dean. You’re so perfect,” Cas whispered against the swell of Dean’s ass, biting into the soft flesh and causing the man before him to cry out and rock forward into Cas’ fist. Cas hummed against Dean’s skin, sliding his tongue back into place and resuming his ministrations. He let his hand slide from Dean’s cock, thumb pressing the soft spot behind Dean’s balls as his fingers curled around them and gently pulled. 

“Cas! Cas! I’m so close… Please,” Dean whimpered and Cas dove forward, sliding back up to palm Dean’s cock and work his wrist faster, press his tongue deeper. He moved his thumb over the head of Dean’s cock, smearing the drool of precome and pressing against the sensitive area and Dean came with a shout, falling forward into the fisted sheets. 

Cas reached up with his free hand, holding Dean’s hips up and worked him through his orgasm, slowly pulling back when Dean whimpered softly. Cas kissed the small of his back, sucking Dean’s release off of his thumb before he kissed up Dean’s back and shoulders, pulling the other man tight against his chest until he caught his breath. 

Dean’s eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he melted back into Cas’ chest. Slowly Cas crawled over Dean’s body, the other man sliding his legs around Cas’ waist and pulling him in. Dean opened his eyes, meeting Cas’ as he slowly pressed into Dean’s body, bringing them flush together. 

“Love you, Cas,” Dean whispered, hands tangling in the back of Cas’ hair and pulling him down. “So much.”

Cas met his lips, rolling his hips once as he replied, “Love you too, Dean.”


	5. Pumpkin Spice - J2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jensen usually loves Fall, because fall means Pumpkin. The bundle of joy he's carrying, however, does not share the sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Took the night off to do a bit of writing. It's short and sweet and to the point! Unbeta'd and feedback fuels the fire! 
> 
> Based off of this prompt by kattrip033: Aversion to pumpkin spice – pregnancy makes them puke at the smell of pumpkin spice, thus making October hell. Any pairing.

“Jared if you don’t get that out of here? I swear to god I am going to strangle you.” 

Jared blinked once, stopping short in the doorway to the living room and raised an eyebrow at his husband, hunched over the back of the couch, his knuckles white where they gripped the cushion. 

“Um,” Jared said slowly, biting on his lower lip as he took in the tense shoulders as Jensen stiffened, inhaling sharply. “What-“

“That… that whatever it is that you brought in here!” Jensen growled out, releasing the couch and spinning around, thrusting his finger forward to point at the cup in Jared’s hand. “It reeks, Jared, and if you don’t want me to vomit everything I’ve had to eat this morning all over the floor, you need to get it out of here.”

“But…” Jared looked down at the cup in his hand and sniffed. He couldn’t smell anything… “You said you wanted something pumpkin.” Jensen made a gagging sound and spun back around, hands back on the couch.

“Don’t even say it!” 

Jared stared at his back for another moment before stepping back into the hallway and into the kitchen. He dumped the pumpkin spiced hot chocolate down the drain and made sure he rinsed out the Styrofoam cup in the sink before tossing it into the trash. For good measure, he let the water run for a few minutes too. 

“I can still smell it,” Jensen groaned and Jared looked over his shoulder to see Jensen with his arms crossed over his swollen belly, leaning against the door frame. Jared smiled and had to bite back the urge to comment on how cute Jensen looked with his stretched out band-tee and lower lip pushed forward in a pout.

“Sorry, baby,” Jared offered, turning off the water and closing the distance between them. He placed his hands on Jensen’s hips lightly and was relieved when Jensen reached forward, pressing his palms flat against Jared’s chest and leaning into him. “I thought you said you wanted a hot chocolate… You love pumpkin, so I just figured…”

“I do love pumpkin. This demon child hates it!” Jensen grumbled against Jared’s chest and Jared smiled, kissing the top of Jensen’s head. 

“I bet you he’s going to love pumpkin and squash the most, just you wait.”

“He,” Jensen looked up, raising an eyebrow. “No daughter of mine would torture me this way until she’s at least fourteen and realized that boys don’t have cooties.”

Jared laughed and rolled his eyes, giving Jensen a squeeze. “What made you realize you couldn’t have pumpkin?” Jared asked after a moment, rubbing his hands over his husband’s back, fingers digging into the muscles he knew Jensen would be complaining about as soon as they crawled into bed later that night. 

“God, I tossed my cookies the second I walked into Dunkin’s the morning… All I could smell was pumpkin… the coffee and the muffins. Jay, they have pumpkin donuts now! Donuts!” 

“Did you at least make it into the bathroom?” Jared asked, pulling back slightly to look down and meet Jensen’s eyes. Bright green narrowed into slits and Jared had to bite back his laugh. “I’m sorry baby. Alright, no more pumpkin. And… no more coffee shops until they break out the peppermint for Christmas.”

“I’m not even going to leave the house until after Thanksgiving.” 

“Good luck with that,” Jared laughed and met Jensen’s lips with a soft kiss. Jensen pulled back almost immediately, wrinkling his nose and pulling out of Jared’s arms. 

“You took a sip of it, didn’t you?” 

Jared couldn’t fight back the laugh this time at the expression on Jensen’s face, and the other man immediately covered his nose and fled into the living room, yelling Jared’s name over his shoulder. 

“I am never kissing you again!”

“I’ll go and brush my teeth!” Jared called back, still chuckling as he slipped into the downstairs bathroom. “Then I’ll taste like Christmas.”

Jensen glared at him from the other end of the hallway and stuck out his tongue before turning and plopping himself down in his designated spot on the couch. Jared knew without looking that his legs would be sprawled across the cushions, ready and waiting for Jared to join him so he could spread them across Jared’s lap, toes wiggling until Jared conceded and started rubbing his feet. 

God, Jared loved this man. Jared smiled to himself and reached for the toothbrush, preparing to rid himself of everything pumpkin spice. They would just have to make up for this year’s loss next October.


	6. Don’t Go To Bed Angry - Destiel

_Facebook Writing Exercise:  Cas and Dean are lying in bed, back to back, angry. Give me a conflict - what is the fight about? who started it? and how would they resolve it?_

Dean was angry. Hell, he was down right pissed. He made a point of punching his pillow again, just so that Cas would know he was still pissed.   
  
Silence answered him and if anything, that made Dean even angrier. He sighed, a loud huff in the silence of the room and behind him, Cas finally made a noise.   
  
“Are you fucking laughing?” Dean asked, incredulous.   
  
“Your dramatic display to let me know how angry you are, when I in fact should be the only one angry, is quite trivial and immature, Dean,” Cas responded, his voice rough with sleep and Dean had a momentary spike of pleasure at the fact he woke Cas up before it was replaced with guilt and then, of course, more anger.  
  
“My drama– You’re the only one that should be angry? Are you kidding, Cas? I apologized to you and you just-”  
  
“Didn’t accept it because it was a half assed apology and you know it?” Cas fired back and Dean snapped his mouth shut, flipping over on the bed to stare at the back of Castiel’s head in the darkness.  
  
He watched the rise and fall of Cas’ shoulders as he breathed and glared at them. “It wasn’t half-assed.”  
  
Dean heard Cas snort and saw him shake his head. “You apologized because Sam made you apologize. Otherwise, you would’ve ignored the fact that you hurt my feelings, like you always do when you get frustrated and take it out on me.”  
  
Dean opened his mouth to reply but then Cas was flipping over, his eyes wide and hurt as he met Dean’s from the moonlight coming in the motel window.   
  
“You get mad and you take it out on me, or on Sam, and when you realize you crossed a line you try to make up for it by ignoring it and letting us pick the music, or sharing your pie. You have no idea, Dean, how much better a simple, sincere apology would be! You have no idea how-how useless you can make me feel when yo-” Cas broke off, closing his eyes tight and Dean felt something twist in his stomach.  
  
There was no anger anymore.  
  
“Cas,” he said softly, reaching out and felt like he was sucker punched when Cas twisted his arm back, eyes opening up again to glare at Dean.  
  
“Don’t.” Cas’ voice was hard and Dean let his hand fall to the bed between them. “I would do anything to help you, I try my best, and I’m sorry I’m not perfect, I’m sorry that figuring out how to be human is harder than I thought it would be, I’m sorry that I keep screwing things up and making life harder for you and–”  
  
“Cas,” Dean whispered, reaching out again and ignoring the angel tensing under his touch. He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm over Cas’ shoulders and pulling him into his chest. Cas fought him for a moment before collapsing against him with a soft sob against his throat. Dean closed his eyes and held on tighter as Castiel shook in his arms.   
  
“Cas, I’m sorry,” Dean whispered against his ear, pressing his lips to the side of Cas’ head, his hand rubbing circles on Cas’ back. “You’re completely right… I was frustrated and I took it out on you. I appreciate everything, every damn thing you do for me, every single day. And I’m so sorry if I’ve made you doubt that.”  
  
Cas sniffed against his throat, finally lifting an arm to wrap around Dean’s waist and pull them even closer. He mumbled something, his breath hot and wet and Dean had to pull back.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You called me a baby in a trench coat,” Cas repeated, clearing his throat, his fingers picking at a pill in the back of Dean’s sleep shirt.  
  
“I know,” Dean answered, kissing his forehead. “I was being an ass. I’m sorry.”  
  
Cas was silent for a moment before snuggling closer, slipping his knee between Dean’s legs and pushing them over so Dean was laying on his back again. He let out a shuddering breath, wiping his tears on Dean’s shirt before he spoke again, “Sam was right, you are emotionally constipated.”  
  
“I’m sorry for that, too,” Dean answered with a squeeze.  
  
“And, for the record, I’m much older than you, Dean. So if anyone’s a ‘baby’…”  
  
“Shut up and go to sleep, Cas.” He felt Castiel smile against his chest and he smiled back, reaching down for the angel’s chin to lift it and kiss him goodnight.


	7. Fireworks - Wincest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fourth of July everyone!

 

When Sam was eight, Dean snuck them out of the motel they were staying at while their dad was at the local bar doing ‘research’. It was cold that night, Sam remembers grumbling over how Dean better have a good reason to drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, and Dean’s only response was to shove a sweater at him and tell him to shut up. 

As they trudged their way through the forest on the outside of town, sneakers dipping into the soft earth still wet from yesterday’s downpour, Sam was very near being fed up with his older brother’s idea of a ‘good time’. That was until they came to the clearing and there was a pile of oddly shaped boxes waiting for them.

Sam remembers looking up at Dean with confusion, then excitement as Dean flicked out a lighter he’d snagged from a local 7-Eleven and realized what the pile was that was waiting for them. As he stood close to Dean, soaking in his brother’s body heat and staring up into the night sky, he stopped feeling sad that they’d never been able to go see fireworks in any of the town’s they’d been to for the fourth. None of them could beat this. 

When Sam was fourteen, Dean had made their firework night a yearly ritual. Sometimes they had to put it off a day or two, weather or location permitting, but Dean always pulled through. Sam knew Dean probably saved up as much as he could spare all year, it wasn’t like fireworks were something easy to smuggle out of a store, and Sam appreciated every damn cent Dean spent. 

Tonight they were in Washington State, the sky actually clear for once though Dean dragged them out of the hotel and into the Impala to haul ass to a field he’d found days ago hours earlier than they normally would’ve gone because Dean wasn’t sure the rain would hold out. 

As Dean carefully eased the Impala over the ruts in the dirt road, the first smattering of raindrops started to hit the windshield. Sam tried to bite back the smirk but lost it when Dean swore under his breath, torn between driving faster ad saving the suspension on the car – it really was a no brainer. 

When they pulled up to the clearing, both of them jumped out of the car, running forward to where Dean had spread out the fireworks for them (because God forbid now that the Impala was basically his, he leave them in the backseat). The paper and cardboard was soaked through, the smaller, cheaper explosives starting to fall apart as they tried to scoop up armfuls and bring them to the safety the Impala offered. On the second pass, the sky opened up and Sam couldn’t see an inch in front of his face. 

Sam skidded to a stop in the mud, throwing his arms wide and turning his face to the sky as he started to laugh. He knew Dean was frustrated, probably had some twisted way of blaming himself for the rain and for them missing out on the fireworks, but for Sam – it wasn’t about the fireworks. It was about this, the freedom and chance to do something free of hunting and killing, sweating and fighting and being afraid. It was about being Sam and spending time with Dean, nothing else between them.

When he looked back, Dean had stopped beside him, eyes narrowed against the heavy rain pelting down on them. His lips were parted, his chest rising and falling as he breathed in hard. Sam opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say exactly, but then Dean closed the distance between them.

His mouth was wet with rain but warm, sending a shiver of heat through Sam’s entire body. He clung to the back of his brother’s soaked shirt, drawing him in closer.

Sam didn’t mind the rain.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean gasped, hips thrusting up hard, eliciting a groan from Sam’s own throat. He arched his back, shifted his thighs, changing the angle he was moving in Dean’s lap.

Dean was spread out on the blanket, the Impala blocking them from the view of anyone who might happen to be out on this back road, Sam’s legs on either side of Dean’s body and bent to allow himself to fuck up and down on Dean’s cock. 

The fireworks from the next town over could be seen exploding in the night sky, the brightest blossoms casting red and green and white glows across Dean’s skin. He looked beautiful like this, mouth open and eyes wide, soaking up everything Sam was giving him and matching him as if their lives depended on it. 

Sometimes Sam thought that it did. 

Here, like this, Dean’s body joining with his and completing him in a way that no one else other than Dean had ever been able to do – this was life. Dean’s hands were firm but gentle, a promise of protection. His words of praise were softly whispered into Sam’s skin, his mouth, a promise of love. The scent of Dean’s skin, gun powder and aftershave, almost stronger than the summer grass they were laying in, a promise of home. 

“So good, Sammy, so perfect for me,” Dean whispered, hands running over Sam’s thighs, down to his ass, pulling him further apart and allowing himself to sink deeper into Sam’s body. Sam groaned, muscles trembling with pleasure and exhaustion as he continued to move up and down. “So fucking hot like this.”

Sam gasped as Dean’s hand moved from his ass to wrap around his cock, striping him in time with their bodies coming together. Sam’s own hips started to falter and Dean picked up his pace, pounding upwards into Sam’s body, tightening his fist. 

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean groaned, the hand still on Sam’s ass digging in just this side of painful. “Come for me baby.”

Sam moaned, Dean’s name a fallen prayer from his lips as his hands found purchase on Dean’s chest and he slammed down as hard as he could, crying out as he spilled his release over Dean’s stomach and hand. 

He felt Dean’s body tighten beneath him, fingers digging in, the warm wet press of his release inside of Sam’s body, and then they collapsed together on the blanket, sweaty and spent. 

Just as the summer air started to chill Sam’s heated skin, Dean pulled the second blanket out from underneath his head, covering them and pulling Sam in closer.

Behind them, the fireworks continued to explode in the sky. 


End file.
